


That Ratty Old Couch

by Anrisa Ryn (Anrisa)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anrisa/pseuds/Anrisa%20Ryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quick, cute thing full of cuteness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Ratty Old Couch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gothfrog](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gothfrog).



Dean sighed and lay back on the couch. It was a ratty old thing, but it was still confortable, or at least he thought it was. After Bobby passed away, he’d left everything to him and Sam, so no use letting the place go to waste.

It had been a long day so far. Him and Sam had taken apart two werewolves and a few vampires, and it was only noon. Dean just wanted to lay back, have a beer or two, and watch some porn. But he had no porn, so whatever was playing on TV would have to suffice.

He clicked on the television to a baseball game. It was the Royals against the Red Sox. He scoffed, guessing his own home team was going to lose. He’d never been much of a sports fan, but it was something to watch.

“Sam?” he called, hoping his younger brother was around. Maybe he could get the beer. Dean was too tired to move. “Uhg,” he sighed, standing up with quite a bit of effort. He grimaced, hoping the cut he’d been awarded would heal fast. It was annoying to not be able to even go to the doctor for this stuff.

Sam was nowhere to be seen. Had he gone somewhere? Dean vaguely remembered him talking about the farmer’s market or something. He was all about that stupid organic crap. Why couldn’t the man like a decent pie now and then instead of that dumb healthy stuff.

“Dean,” a familiar deep voice said from behind him. Dean jumped and turned to find Castiel standing in the doorway between the sitting room and kitchen.

“Dude, you gotta stop scaring me like that,” Dean breathed.

“You’re not usually this jumpy,” Castiel commented.

“I’m tired,” the man said, grabbing a Bud Lite from the fridge. “Rough Day.”

“I know,” Castiel said plainly in his deep monotone. “I fixed your beer.”

“What are you talking -” Dean raised an eyebrow and looked down at the beer in his hand. The Bud Lite had somehow turned into a Heineken. “Cas, you know I hate when you do that.”

“You stated once you preferred that beer over the Blue Buddy Lite.”

“It’s Bud Lite, Cas, and yeah I did, but you freak me out when you do that.” Dean took a sip and felt an inner joy that mirrored nothing else, but he wasn’t going to let Castiel see. That angel gets spoiled enough. He plopped back down on the couch and leaned against the arm rest, not looking back at the other man.

“I don’t understand. I’m doing a nice thing for you.”

“Cas, just come sit down, you loser,” Dean commanded, putting his spare left hand on the top of the backrest and one leg on the cushions.

Castiel, unsure of what had happened, did as he was told. He carefully sat down on the far end of the couch, watching Dean. Dean didn’t react. He either didn’t notice him, or was doing the thing Dean always did.

Trying not to draw too much attention to himself, Castiel carefully slid closer to the other man. Dean glanced at him, but didn’t react. He looked back at the TV as if the baseball game was the most interesting thing on the planet.

Another inch closer, and this time Dean didn’t do anything.

A few more inches.

Then a foot.

And finally, their hips were touching.

Dean looked at the strange angel man for just a split second and took another sip of the beer. Castiel met his eyes, but then looked away again. Neither of them moved.

Then, as carefully as he dared, Castiel leaned his body against Dean’s. His head rested on Dean’s chest.

Yes. I have done this thing. Castiel thought, celebrating internally.

Without a word, Dean’s hand moved from the couch back to around Castiel’s shoulder. And there it rested until the pair fell asleep with the TV on.


End file.
